Bruises
by champagne for the pain
Summary: Harry is concerned when he notices bruises on Hermione's thighs, so he decides to confront her. Soon, he will deeply regret his life choices... (This could probably be rated T? Not sure.)
_a/n: Another fic inspired by my and novacanemalfoy's texts._

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Harry and Ron had often joked that Hermione was scary. But that's all it had been: a joke. He couldn't speak for Ron, but Harry knew that he for one had never actually been scared of their bushy-haired best friend. Until now, that was. It wasn't that he was scared of Hermione herself; he was scared of what her reaction would be once he brought up what was sure to be a sensitive topic. And he wasn't scared she was going to yell or hex him; he was scared she would break down in tears.

Hermione had been about to break away from her friend in the hallway to go to the library when Harry stopped her and asked if they could talk. She looked concerned at what this might be about, probably worrying something was wrong with _him_ , but agreed nonetheless. So the two had gone back to Gryffindor Tower and trekked up to Harry's dorm room. Hermione's small frame was now situated on the edge of his bed while Harry himself paced in front of her.

"Harry, you're worrying me," said the girl's soft voice. "Please tell me what's going on."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. Oh, Godric, she looked so fragile... This was going to be painful, he could tell.

" _Harry_ ," she pressed when all he did was stare.

The Boy Who Lived sighed and plopped down next to Hermione on his comforter.

"Alright," he began, not meeting her eyes. "Before I start, I want you to know this is a safe place, 'Mione. Whatever you say stays between us. You can trust me."

Suddenly, her spine went stiff. A flicker of realization flashed in her bright amber eyes. She audibly gulped then licked her lips several times before she managed to ask, "What's this about?"

Dear Merlin, she already feared he knew.

Harry took Hermione's small hands in his bigger ones and said, "I just want to make sure you're okay."

"What's this about, Harry?" Hermione repeated, louder this time. She was visibly growing anxious.

His green eyes flicked away for a moment before he said in a rush, "Doyouself-harm?"

The panic faded from the witch's features and was replaced with confusion. Her brows drew together and she had just opened her mouth to respond when Harry plowed ahead.

"I saw the marks—on your thighs. I-I swear I wasn't being a pervert or anything, it's just earlier today, the wind picked up your skirt a bit, and I happened to notice..." He licked his lips, oblivious to the crimson tint his best friend's cheeks were slowing taking on.

"Harry..."

But in his haste, he didn't hear her. "Dudley had a Muggle friend who self-harmed. H-He'd make little cuts on his arms with a razor because his parents got divorced and it was really hard on him—"

"Harry, please—"

"And I know how much you stress out about tests and homework, and I know Ron and I pick on you for it, but I never thought that maybe sometimes it becomes too much for you and you need some kind of outlet, and I know you were really displeased with your grade on last week's Potions exam, and—"

"Harry, stop!" Hermione got to her feet and took up Harry's post from earlier: she began pacing in front of her best friend. "Please just stop."

Harry clamped his lips together for a moment, then said, "'Mione, if you do... if you do _that_ , you can tell me. I won't turn you in or anything, I just want to help—"

"I don't self-harm!" she burst. Silence followed her confession. She worked the toe of her uniform shoe into the floor board and looked anywhere but at her best friend's eyes. Her cheeks were now fully aflame and she was fully aware her hands were shaking.

Harry took a moment before he said, "But... the bruises—"

"Those are from someone— _THING_ else." She mentally cursed herself for her slip-up, hoping against hope he hadn't noticed. But the moment she corrected herself, her head had automatically snapped up to see if he'd caught it, and from the way his bespectacled eyes darkened, it was clear he had. "Those are from something else," she stressed.

"You said some _one_ ," he growled, pushing himself off the bed. "Someone did that to you?"

"No! Harry, no, I didn't mean to say that—"

"Who was it?" he snarled. "Was it that creep, McLaggen? The one who's been trying to force himself on you all year?"

"No!" Hermione took Harry's hand in hers. "Please just—"

"Then who was it, Hermione?! Tell me whose been hurting you!"

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, no one is hurting me!" She dropped his hand and stomped her foot in frustration. She was very close to tearing her hair out. The ocean was suddenly in her ears, making her fear she was about to pass out.

When she came out of it, she noticed she was audibly inhaling and exhaling hard, her breath matching the erratic rise and fall of her chest. Harry was staring at her, but he seemed to have gotten himself under control a little better upon seeing how worked up she was.

"They are from someone," she relented quietly, staring at a spot on the wall a few inches above his head. "But it's not how you think. He wasn't hurting me."

Apparently, Harry heard her confession, then tuned out for the rest of her statement. He took one rigid step in her direction and said in a voice wound tight with restraint, "Who. Was. It?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed without sound. Eventually, eyes locked on her shoes, she said, "Draco. Th-They're from sex with Draco."

It felt like an entire minute went by with Harry just standing in front of her, staring. The muggle-born's inner Gryffindor was temporarily hiding; she was nowhere near brave enough to meet his eyes or break the silence.

Eventually, he moved. She wasn't looking but she could hear him moving about the room, loudly opening and closing drawers...

"What are you doing?" she finally asked once she got her voice to work again. She looked up to find Harry scouring the Marauder's Map. Her eyes widened. "Harry, what are you doing?!"

"I'm going to kill him," he responded in such a casual way a bystander would have thought they were discussing the weather. He grabbed his wand and charged down the steps.

"Harry, no!" Hermione bolted after him, but unfortunately he already had a good lead and her small legs weren't allowing her to catch up. "HARRY!"

She followed him down staircases, through corridors until they arrived at his destination: the courtyard. Other than a group of second year Hufflepuffs on the other side of the grass, Draco was alone today. Of course Hermione knew this—he'd confided in her that he liked to slip away from his housemates and minions once a day and just enjoy the outdoors by himself, have some time to think—but she'd been hoping against hope that Crabbe and Goyle would've been flanking him today to provide some sort of backup. But of course not. Draco was by himself, perched high up in his favorite tree, leafing through the pages of a textbook.

"MALFOY!" Harry bellowed. He was stalking toward the blond, wand drawn and pointed up at his target.

The Hufflepuffs were on high alert now, watching the scene before them with wide-eyed fear. One of them ran off toward the castle as quickly as her short legs would allow.

The Slytherin prince snapped to attention. He looked down to find two-third of the Golden Trio marching his way, Potter looking murderous, Granger looking petrified. He set his book aside and hopped down from his tree, keeping his fingers curled in toward his wand sleeve. Just in case.

He could guess what this was about.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, Potter?" He seemed thoroughly bored which only made Hermione implore him with her pleading eyes. He chuckled. His little lioness, ever the worrier.

Harry poked his wand into Draco's chest, hard. "Don't you _ever_ touch her again!" he all but roared.

Draco arched a pale brow and glanced in Hermione's direction. She stiffly shook her head, as though to communicate it wasn't what he thought.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy! I _saw_ the bruises!" Harry poked him harder, fury radiating from his entire being. "If you ever hurt her again, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

Draco looked back at his witch once more and smirked. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, this time clearly with the intention of saying, _Don't_.

"Is that so?" he asked with amusement.

"Yeah, that is so!" Harry's chest rose and fell with every word. "Must've done a good job at scaring her out of telling, too, considering the lie she told me to cover your ass. But believe me when I say this ends now!"

"Draco..." Hermione said in a desperate warning tone of voice.

But he ignored her and broke out into a grin. "Oh? And what lie would that be, Potter?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed without words. Draco knew what was going through his mind: _I can't repeat it or he'll make some sort of comment about how he'd never touch someone of her 'kind'!_

"What... is the meaning of this?" called an annoyed monotone. Hermione's head whipped in the direction of the castle. Gliding toward them was none other than a more-irritated-than-usual Professor Snape. "I was in the middle of grading your Potions work when some insufferable, whiny, little Hufflepuff came crying and told me you three were causing a ruckus outside."

The witch whirled back around toward her classmates, eyes wide as saucers. "Draco, don't—"

But Draco couldn't care less; he smoothly plucked Potter's wand from his fingers and tossed it aside. As the bespectacled boy protested, Draco turned around and tugged his T-shirt over his head.

Harry's eyebrows crinkled in confusion at first, but then his vision focused on the sight before him. Malfoy's back was pale like the rest of him, but unlike the rest of him, red scratches were etched into nearly every inch of the skin there. Upon further inspection, the scratches looked like they had come from a girl's fingernails...

"Draco, put your clothes back on," Snape ordered as he arrived at the scene. "What is going on here?"

The blond easily slipped his shirt back on over his head and turned around to meet the eyes of a disturbed, jaw-slackened Harry Potter. With the most condescending grin he'd ever yet dished out, Draco informed the other boy, "She marked me, too."

He Accio'd his textbook out of the tree, stepped around his frozen rival, and placed a kiss on Hermione's trembling lips. "I'll see you tonight." Then he turned to his Head of House who looked like he was going to be sick. With a slight incline of his head, he said, "Professor," then smugly swaggered off toward the dungeons.

The remaining three magical beings stood in front of the tree in the most uncomfortable silence of Hermione's life. Finally, she took a step forward and reached her hand out to touch her best friend's shoulder. "Harry—"

"Just…" He pushed his glasses up his forehead and rubbed his eyes. "I have to… be anywhere but here…" He Accio'd his wand from the grass and headed toward the castle. The remaining, newly scarred Hufflepuffs took this as a good time to escape.

Hermione was left alone with Snape. She looked up at the older wizard, waiting to see if he would take House points or assign her a detention or _blink_ , as it appeared he hadn't done that in a while.

"Professor?" she asked.

Without a word, Snape turned around and started for the castle, as well. He shook his head, and Hermione could've sworn she heard him mutter, "I am too old for this shit..."

With a sigh, she rolled her shoulders and started for the Slytherin dorms. A certain blond prat had a stern lecture coming his way, followed by a rough shag. As much as her brain hated his arrogance, her body loved it; her knickers were currently soaked through. She was going to scold him for humiliating her in front of her best friend and their teacher, and then she was going to punish him. Thoroughly.

And with any luck, he would give her a few more bruises.


End file.
